


Rescue

by LittleMissWolfie



Series: After [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female pronouns for Pidge, Gen, Not really graphic, Post canon, Sam Holt centric, kind of?, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissWolfie/pseuds/LittleMissWolfie
Summary: He’s never been a religious man, but if Hell exists, he’s pretty sure he’s already there. He struggles to recall his senior year of high school in the Garrison and reading Dante’s Inferno. What horrible sin has he committed to be stuck in this ring of Hell? The closest he can think of is blasphemy; he may not be wandering in a desert with burning rain, but Dante couldn’t have possibly thought of anything to equate being a prisoner in an alien work camp.
Or;
Matt Holt doesn't remember being rescued, but Sam Holt does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! It's been a while!
> 
> This might be a little rushed, but I really wanted to get this posted before I started working on Pidgance Week (which I will squeeze into this series if it kills me). Before I get on with my usual thanking of the commenters, I want to say something:
> 
> A concerned reader posted a very passionate comment on Moving Forward. The commenter presented several concerns with my series that i hadn't thought about before. I replied with my reasonings, and they later agreed with some and disagreed with others, but I wanted to let you all know that there's nothing wrong with critisizing me. The way this commenter did it was done in a bad way (angry and ranting, mean-spirited), and they later apologized for their wording, but it hurt. If you see anything that anyone could find offensive in any of my works, please let me know so I can either clarify or fix it.
> 
> On with the usual business! Thank you to my old friends Ididntsignupforthisshit and AlphaofDarkness, along with a new face, Dahanavar, for commenting on Announcement. I hope this does as well!

Sam is awake when he’s rescued.

At first, he doesn’t realize it’s a rescue. When he’s startled from his doze by pounding footsteps on the metal floor, he suspects it’s a couple of Galra soldiers coming to haul one of his fellow prisoners off for extra labor. He looks down to Matt, curled up, asleep and feverish, on the thin blanket another prisoner has been kind enough to give him. His poor son is relentlessly tormented by the soldiers because of the limp that saved his life. They see it as a sign of weakness and work him to the bone to spite him because of it. He can only pray they aren’t coming for Matt.

Prisoners are starting to stir. They back up into the corners of their cells, trembling in fear. Sam wishes he could reassure them, but he’s not wholly convinced they’re not all damned. He’s never been a religious man, but if Hell exists, he’s pretty sure he’s already there. He struggles to recall his senior year of high school in the Garrison and reading  _ Dante’s Inferno. _ What horrible sin has he committed to be stuck in this ring of Hell? The closest he can think of is blasphemy; he may not be wandering in a desert with burning rain, but Dante couldn’t have possibly thought of anything to equate being a prisoner in an alien work camp. He does his best to cover Matt up so he’s not immediately obvious and retreats into a back corner himself.

However, the two figures who round the corner aren’t Galra. He can see them pretty well from his vantage point near the door, and even in the dim light, he can tell that those aren’t the Galra uniforms. They’re both wearing flightsuits with colored accents: black for the tall, broad-chested one, and green for the small, slender one. The green one has a glowing weapon that almost resembles a dagger, but it’s more in the shape of a triangle than a straight line, and the tall one’s right hand is glowing a familiar purple hue that makes Sam uneasy. Their helmets’ visors cover their faces, so he can’t tell what they’re thinking. After a tense moment, the black one says, “Remain calm,” is a calming voice that sounds familiar to Sam, but he can’t quite place where he’s heard it before. “We are two of the Paladins of Voltron. Zarkon has been defeated, and we’re here to help you all get home.”

Around him, the voices of the other prisoners begin to rise, questioning at first, but quickly turning to joyful. They chant “Voltron” over and over again. Are these really the great warriors that have been fighting for the liberation of the universe?

The Paladins move, working quickly to cut holes in the cell bars and free his fellow prisoners. Their work is fast and efficient, and soon only a handful of cells, including his, is left. As the green one opens a cell that houses a family with a young child a few doors from his, the young one launches itself (Sam once asked about their race’s genders and earned a strange look, so he uses neutral pronouns for all of them) into his arms. “You’re safe now,” the Paladin whispers, and a pang of an emotion Sam doesn’t know or remember the name of shoots straight to his heart, because the green Paladin isn’t a boy.

It’s his Katie.

If he had the strength, he would throw himself against the bars to get closer to her. If his throat wasn’t clogged with fatigue and dehydration, he would cry out for her. He curses his frail body for not being able to gather his little girl in his arm after so long.

Fear suddenly washes over him, leaving him frozen. Why is his little girl, his Katie, his only daughter, a Paladin of Voltron? He’s heard of their adventures from other prisoners, heard of the people they’ve had to kill in their pursuit of others’ freedom. How could his precious daughter be one of those warriors? A lot of the stories he hears about the Green Paladin involve them-- _ her,  _ they involve  _ Katie _ \--running headfirst into the danger. “Greenie’s more headstrong than any of the others,” one alien told him once, right after the latter’s arrival. “My crew and I ran into the Voltron guys a lot before we got captured, and the only one who rivaled Greenie’s hot head was Red.” What kind of horrors has his daughter subjected herself to?

The Black Paladin is the one who comes to his cell, but he freezes when he sees him. “Commander Holt?” he asks, quietly, and Sam knows where he’s heard that voice before. 

“Shiro?” he asks, voice rasped.

The visor dissolves and Sam is greeted with the sight of Shiro’s face. It’s older, more angular, and his bangs are white and there’s a scar across his nose, but it’s definitely Shiro. He’s smiling, softly, and his eyes are tired as he says, “Thank God. Matt?” Sam gestures to the unmoving lump on the floor, and Shiro winces. “Is he alive?” When Sam nods, he visibly relaxes. “Thank  _ God. _ ” Then he turns over his shoulder and calls, “Katie, come here.”

Katie finishes opening her last cell and ushering its occupants away before she complies, creeping towards Shiro with care in her step. “What is it?”

“They’re here.”

Suddenly, Katie is pressed against the bars, and her visor’s gone. Sam’s heart leaps to his throat at the sight of his little girl. Her face isn’t round anymore; it’s sharp and angular, and a single white scar is on her cheekbone, stretching to her ear. Her face is lined with fatigue and she looks exhausted, but her eyes are bright and brimming with tears. “Daddy?” she asks, her voice cracking.

“Katie,” he responds, voice thick, reaching out to press his fingers against hers.  _ “Katie.” _

With a roar, she cuts the cell open and falls against him, curling up into his thin chest and sobbing. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watches Shiro slip a few steps away and begin talking softly. His trained ears pick up his half of a conversation he assumes is taking place over a communicator in their helmets--a theory proven by the echo coming from Katie’s. “This is Shiro. We found the Holts. Both show signs of malnutrition and dehydration, and Matt is out cold. Prepare healing pods for arrival.”

Sam doesn’t remember much after that. He remembers Katie helping him limp down the hall, hands tight around his chest, and Shiro carefully carrying Matt bridal-style. He remembers seeing the rest of the Paladins, who converge on their small party with well-wishes and congratulations. He remembers, vaguely, the blue one press a hand between Katie’s shoulder blades, before he’s being taken into the mouth of the Green Lion, and then he remembers nothing at all until he’s awoken by a beautiful young woman with brown skin and silver hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, it's kind of rushed, but I wanted to write something Sam-centric, so here it is. I'll chalk up anything disjointed on his horrible health due to the mistreatment he's received and his malnutrition and dehydration. I have no idea how either of those work, exactly, so I didn't go into too much detail. I hope I didn't get anything too terribly wrong. And if you think the content in this fic is sensitive or trigger-worthy, let me know immediately and I'll update the tags.
> 
> I'll see you tommorrow (or later today) with my first Pidgance Week fic!


End file.
